Ethan followed Daoist Amari, walking across the stone bridge.
Looking out over the lake on either side, he felt an increasing sense of mystery and eeriness about this place.
Lakes atop mountains were a rare sight.
Water from high altitudes usually seeped into underground streams.
Water always flows downward—by any logic, a lake should not exist at the summit.
Yet, this lake remained on top of the mountain, with no higher peaks surrounding it.
The emerald waters rippled gently, and under the scorching sun, the lake shimmered with dazzling golden light.
“Grandmaster, there’s no need to be surprised. This lake has existed for two hundred years,” Daoist Amari, as if reading Ethan’s doubts, explained, “It was not naturally formed but was created by our ancestral master.”
The “ancestral
